


(Comedic) Love at First Sight

by woollen_pharaohs



Category: Key & Peele (TV), Key and Peele RPF
Genre: Awkward First Times, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nothing too explicit, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/pseuds/woollen_pharaohs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan and Keegan's meeting is a series of coincidences too crazy to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Comedic) Love at First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: it’s pouring and my final paper is in my backpack so I guess we’re stuck under this tiny awning together. do you think they’d deliver pizza here  
> Also inspired (and taken direct lines from) this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cE67KDvoOWg

**Yonkers - 2001**

It’s raining and Jordan runs to the bus stop as fast as he can with his shoes untied and his grip-less shoes slipping on the asphalt. He’s sweating and he’s trying to run at a safe speed but the physical activity is not the only thing that’s got him stressed out. His thesis is due in a few hours and he worked so hard to finish it and print it out with all the pages in order and getting it all bound together nice and neat and professional looking. That huge bundle of paper is sitting at the bottom of his backpack as he runs through the rain to catch his bus and he prays to God that his thesis doesn’t get a drop of water on it.

He rounds the corner and the bus stop is in vision. He starts to get a bit light headed when the bus stop appears to be deserted – always a bad sign – but he looks down at his watch and he’s early. The bus stop is only about ten metres away now and he hears the rumbling sound of the bus coming further up the street. Jordan gets closer to the stop and the bus is team rolling down the street and he starts to wave his arms around in the rain, trying to hail the bus down but the closer he gets, the faster the bus seems to get and by the time he gets to the stop the bus has driven straight past.

“God damn it!” Jordan shouts, stepping into the flimsy protection of the bus stop’s tiny awning, hands on his thighs as he catches his breath.

After regaining some blood circulation in his head, Jordan looks up to see that the bus stop wasn’t actually deserted, and there was in fact a man standing tall, arms wrapped tightly around his body, clothed in a thin but expensive looking casual suit. Their eyes lock and peer pressure sets in. The man becomes ironed by Jordan’s gaze, his eyes gloss over, half lidded, and his arms fall loose to his side, his stance becomes ultra-relaxed, carefree and cool.

Jordan, still catching his breath and slightly bemused by this guy’s attempt to look cool, asks, “Brother was that bus out of service?”

The man scrunches up his face as if he’s trying to think pretty hard, “Nah man, it was running, I mean it said 58 on top of it but it ain’t gonna stop for a lone black fellow,”

“58? Fuck now I’m going to have to wait for the next one,” Jordan sighs.

He slings his backpack around to his front and tentatively draws the zip down but as he does so, he hears the soggy sound of wet paper. He cringes and zips it back up again. There’d be no point running back home to fix it up, he made it this far, he’s not going to turn back. He’s just going to have to wait for the next bus to come around on time and actually pick him up. Hopefully they will have the heater running on the bus and he can dry the pages on the heater beneath the seat, so long as no one’s sitting there. But right now all he can do is wait, stuck under this tiny awning.

“You’re not from around here are you?” Jordan asks the man.

The man shrugs his shoulders, “what makes you say that?”

“Well for one thing you didn’t hail the only bus that comes to this stop. Maybe if you had we’d both be on it right now.”

“Oh so you’re blaming me for your inability to get to your stop on time?”

Jordan reels, “the fuck? I was on time, the buses are always unpredictable on a rainy day. Have you ever even caught a bus here before?”

The man scratches his baldhead, “Yeah… nah I’m more of a car driver than a public transport dude,”

“For real? That makes sense, this route loops around the suburbs to the university, so unless you’re going there…” Jordan trails off, looking at the man’s get up.

“Hey, I’m down from Detroit visiting a friend around here, _brother_. Ain’t a brother allowed to visit another brother?”

“Yeah man, shit you’re so testy,” Jordan chuckles, backing off a bit, “chill out, we’re gonna be stuck here for another hour until the next one comes along so be cool man, I’m not gonna fight you.”

The man looks visibly relieved, “you aren’t? Jesus, I thought you were, or mug me or something.”

“Mug you? Because I’m black? Fuck, _you’re_ black.”

“I know, I know,” the man says, folding his arms and standing stiff again.

Jordan drops his bad at his feet and leans back on the wall of the bus stop, the metal creaking ever so slightly.

“I’m Jordan, by the way.”

The man taps his fingers against his elbows and glances at Jordan before replying, “Keegan.”

“Alright, Keegan. Since we’re stuck here, do you reckon they’ll deliver pizza here?”

Keegan roars with laughter, he laughs so hard he has to clutch onto his side, keep his body together.

“I’m being serious. It’s cold and wet and it’s getting dark. My thesis might be ruined and I want pizza,” Jordan says with a straight face.

Keegan turns to thim, eyes wide and laughter completely escapes him. When he speaks he’s completely serious, “let’s do it.”

 

\- - -

 

As it turns out, dominos doesn’t discriminate on where it delivers pizza to. For all he knew, he could be living under a bridge and so long as he has a working credit card dominos would deliver. It’s good information to know, for future reference. And eating pizza is always the best way to pass the time. When the bus rolled in they were both feeling the buzz of eating warm pizza in the rain. Keegan bid farewell, stating that he couldn’t sit at the back, can’t sit anywhere but the front so that he can yell profanities at the other drivers in lieu of the bus driver. Jordan makes his way to the back and is able to dry his thesis on the heater under the seat. It didn’t work too well but thankfully his professor thought what had happened was hilariously unfortunate, so he supposed he should take that as a good thing, especially since he wasn’t even marked down for handing it in late.

 -

In celebration for completing their theses, he and is Sarah Lawrence college classmates hit the clubs in the inner city of Yonkers. They hit the regular ones, moving from club to club until they find one they like, but somehow they end up at some obscure club with excessive decorations hanging from the ceiling, strobe lights – epilepsy warning – and Jordan wonders if they didn’t just walk through some time portal and get stuck in an 80s funk/R&B fusion club. He dances with his friends but he tires easy and he finds himself sitting at a low coffee table, the couch so low set that he felt like he was sinking into the floor itself.

He wasn’t even that drunk but all the people on the dance floor seem to be one glittery, shimmering mess. Normally he’d be quite into that scene, but he’s been running dry on weed for weeks now and it’s just making him confused and maybe this is what it’s like to be addicted to something? There’s a giant bowl of candy in the centre of the coffee table and he keeps reaching for them as he watches the glowing globule of people glitter under the lights. The glory of the candy bowl is filled with all things gummi, bears and snakes and sheep and pigs and he consumes the gummi animal kingdom as he sits, mesmerised by the vision and the music blaring in his ears, a mixture of people making out and singing awkwardly to decades old hits.

He reaches for the last gummi animal, the last one, but someone takes it before him. Jordan stares at the hand, frozen in place by Jordan’s scrutiny as both entities have realized they were going for the same gummi treat. Jordan trails his eyes up the person’s arm and his face looks so familiar but all he can think about right now is food and gummi bears and questioning why they didn’t have gummi pizza. Screw gummi animals when you can have gummi snacks in the shape of junk food. The ultimate metaphor.

The man opposite him suddenly jabs a finger at the air and he grins widely, his voice cracking high pitched, “you’re the pizza at the bus stop guy!”

It clicks in Jordan’s mind and he says, “you’re the moody bus stop guy!”

Keegan barks out a short laugh and says, “you’re Jordan right?” Keegan falls back into the couch, “fuck I’m so glad I found someone I know. This place is super weird. Oh hey man, have you seen a guy wearing a blue wig? He’s here with some friends I think, I don’t know, I’m meant to meet up with him but dude I _cannot_ distinguish blue from red right now.”

“Shit did you say blue wig? Is your friend Craig?”

“Yeah man, that’s the guy I’m visiting. Do you know him?”

Jordan stretches his arms above his head, yawning. He shouldn’t be tired, a club isn’t the place for sleepy people but he’s had a long, tough day and the suction in the couch is plucking out his energy too, “dude yeah. Craig’s my classmate, we’re out here together. But shit, I lost him too,” Jordan snorts, “it’s like the fucking mardi gras in here am I right? Rainbows are shining right in my eyes and why did he think it was a good idea to wear a blue wig, it’s hard to pick apart any colour at all!”

Keegan roars, “oh my god yes, exactly. Any other place it’d be easy to find a dude wearing a blue wig but not here!”

Keegan’s demeanour suddenly changes, like an actor transitioning roles and Keegan puts on a deeper, more casual voice as he speaks “hey brother, is it cool if I hang out here for a bit?”

Jordan shrugs, “yeah man, but you gotta pay the price.”

Keegan suddenly becomes anxious, but Jordan can tell it’s an act, “what price?”

“Give me the last gummi snack right there. That right there in your hand, it’s mine.”

Keegan quirks his eyebrow, eyes the snack in his hand then pegs it at Jordan. Jordan claps and catches it between his palms, chucks it in his mouth, grinning.

The DJ changes tracks and the sound of the music ignites something in Keegan, “shit man this song is my jam!”

He leaps off the couch and starts dancing erratically, kinda toward Jordan but also in every other direction possible. The couches, the coffee table, other clubbing patrons are obstacles visible to him with his eyes closed, a sight seer with future sight, predictions of movement already known and incorporated in his movements. Then as the beat of the music begins to hasten Keegan’s muscles become spaghetti, legs going crazy under his twisting torso. Keegan invites Jordan to the dance floor, a beckoning in the form of a hand gesture.

Jordan shrugs and heaves himself off the couch, fighting the temptation to drop back into the dark abyss of the couch’s vacuum, away from the bright colours of the club. But he doesn’t because Keegan pulls him in, lured to the dance floor by his ridiculous dancing. Keegan seems to know all the word to this song Jordan’s never heard of and Jordan finally gets that belated exhilarated feeling of having submitted his last assignment ever. It’s not exactly graduation but he still feels free. And here he is, in some obscure club, his friends enveloped in the poisonous cauldron dubbed a dance floor, a stranger who acts like he’s known him for years dancing like a maniac in front of him. And he’s gotta say, Keegan’s swift and energetic and he’s got these mad leg movements that Jordan kinda envies, despite knowing he’s never gonna be able to pull it off. He can tell already, it’s Keegan’s thing, he owns it and he does it well.

Jordan does his own thing. His dancing is more sensual and immersive than the kind of energy Keegan puts into his dancing. It doesn’t really matter to him that the club is weird, weird is good honestly, it’s humorous, it’s fun. Jordan loves being amongst people, loves noting the ways people interact with the music and the friends and strangers around them. He loves how people interact with each other, trying to impress or disgust or entertain. No matter how weird or boring or whatever a club is, Jordan will always end up having fun seeing humans for who they are in crowds. That’s always fascinated Jordan, guess that’s why he’s been studying acting. And so he isn’t fazed by the action at all when Keegan starts edging closer to him, starts mirroring Jordan’s slow dancing, a sort of bodily sexual wave.

Jordan can’t stop smiling, it’s ridiculous! This dancing is ridiculous, this song – shit the whole DJ set is ridiculous – and the setting? With all the bizarre decorations hanging form the roof and the glitter guns shooting every five minutes as if there isn’t enough glitter coating the place. Jordan just goes with it, welcomes whatever comes to him and goes with Keegan edging closer and closer until they’re practically grinding against each other. Keegan’s so chill about it, like it isn’t even happening, like Jordan isn’t even there. Keegan’s dancing all by himself, dance floor deserted and the spotlight right on him, eyes closed, ears on the music and arms up, _you’re under arrest, arms up_! But that’s a projection on Jordan’s part. There’s something about Keegan’s dancing that invites Jordan to join in, that encourages him, that includes him and Jordan is part of Keegan’s performance, contributing to the heat between them.

Jordan feels a stirring in his jeans and he should have known it was coming but it still surprises him. He hesitates, his dancing becomes jilted, awkward. But he feels Keegan slip an arm around his waist, hand grimly holding onto Jordan’s back as Keegan rolls his hips against Jordan, a mirror of the tempo. Jordan reckons they may as well have made enough heat between them to fog up his glasses because that’s what it’s like to say the words in Keegan’s ears, like hot breath down his neck and that steamy effect of walking in a sauna, ears hot and nervous and he’s cold and hot and feverish.

“Do you want to come back to mine?”

Keegan takes a risk and kisses Jordan’s neck, nibbles on Jordan’s ear lobe and rasps his answer in Jordan’s ear.

 

\- - -

 

They could have caught a bus back but after seeing Keegan’s performance on the bus that morning, or rather yesterday morning, he wasn’t about to get Keegan hyped up about the ability of Yorker’s drivers. He called a can and hoped that he could distract Keegan long enough to keep his attention away from the taxi driver’s skills.

What ends up happening in the back of the cab is some kind of weird crossover between foreplay and a comedic warm-up show. It’s a mixture of Keegan trying to feel Jordan up while simultaneously trying to make Jordan laugh. Keegan, this guy he met by coincidence, _twice_ , has this kind of weird energy that magnetises with Jordan, like they’re in sync or something overly romantic like that. They try to make each other laugh at the same time as turn each other on and it doesn’t sound like it would sum up to anything positive but it works, and this guy, his mind functions on the same level as Jordan’s. Nothing Keegan says is unfunny or boring and Jordan pockets the wins he makes when he can get Keegan to bark out in laughter, a currency of self-validation as he kisses Keegan in the back of the cab.

Jordan’s flat is nothing to brag about. His family wanted him to move onto campus to get the true essence of the college experience, but he got this raw deal where there were no spots available and so he had to find a cheap place to rent that’s close enough to his university. It was alright, from what he gathered he was getting a similar sort of university experience anyway. Except for once it’s going to be him making too much noise in the hallway.

Somehow it’s really difficult to get up the four flights of stairs up to Jordan’s flat and it’s probably something to do with how Jordan has to keep stopping to catch his breath from laughing too hard. And every time he has to brace the stair case railing for support, Keegan catches his lips and kisses him, sharing hitched breathing between them.

They make it up the stairs and into the hallway and Jordan’s finding it really hard to remember which number his flat is because Keegan’s all over him like a spider. A sexy spider-man. And when Keegan slips a hand beneath Jordan’s waist band he has to pull back.

“Dude at this rate I’m going to come in the hallway,” Jordan says, breathing heavily.

Keegan gives Jordan’s ass a squeeze and grins, “I’ll take it slow,” and he rolls his hips slowly against Jordan, the skills of a stripper grinding against him, his own private show in a very public hallway.

Jordan licks his lips and rests his head against the plaster wall as Keegan presses against him, hard muscles throbbing, yearning for the clothing to be removed, skin to touch skin, and Jordan places his hands on Keegan’s waist, reluctantly holds him still, nodding down the hall.

He should probably be embarrassed about how messy his flat is but if he was expecting to take anyone home tonight he honestly still wouldn’t have done anything about it. There’s a system in place, and well, let’s be real, Jordan’s more likely to spend time sitting on the couch watching cable than he is to put effort into tidying up his house. Keegan reels at first but Jordan pulls him straight into the bedroom, which is dark and probably the cleanest room, hopefully. Jordan should be distraction enough to get Keegan’s attention away from the floor blanketed with clothing and rubbish.

Jordan pulls Keegan on the bed with him, they kick off their shoes. The streetlight drips in through the blinds on the window and shines yellow light on Keegan’s bald head, illuminating his skin like he’s in some kind of skin care commercial. Keegan straddles Jordan and unbuttons his dress shirt, then helps tug off Jordan’s T-Shirt. Once the cloth is removed he smooches Jordan’s neck, drags his tongue down to Jordan’s nipple and sucks. Jordan’s already so close, the heat in his tummy a volcano ready to erupt. It’s becoming too much, too hard to fight, too hard to ignore and when Keegan slips his hand beneath Jordan’s khakis – Keegan barely even gets to touch the skin of Jordan’s cock and he comes. White blares in Jordan’s vision and for an instant it’s pleasure and relief and _fuck_ what a last day of university. White seeps away to the dim shadows of his room, a faint yellow glow hanging over Keegan, half naked and glorious.

“Shit… I’m sorry,” Jordan says, his skin crawling, muscles clenching.

“It’s okay,” Keegan says softly, rubbing Jordan’s waist, thumbing his abdomen.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jordan rasps, voice cracking, and he lifts a hand to Keegan’s belt buckle.

Keegan places a hand over Jordan’s warm and slightly sticky, “hey, it’s okay, don’t feel like you have to do me too, I had fun.”

Jordan frowns, “dude are you sure?”

“Yeah man,” Keegan smiles. He slings his leg over Jordan and bounces on the mattress beside Jordan, reaching for the box of tissues on the bedside table. He grabs a handful and starts cleaning Jordan up like it’s nothing, “hey have I ever told you this story? This is my favourite story about my friend who’s a firefighter.”

Jordan shakes his head, speechless, and Keegan launches into telling this story to him like Jordan’s his best friend, like he’s this guy that Keegan’s known for years and years, a dear old friend, and Keegan’s so shocked that he’s never told such a good friend this story before.

“… so my friend back in Detroit is just sitting in the firehouse reading a paper and this guy just drives around the corner in a car – just drives into the firehouse and gets out of his car, has his hand on his head and walks right up to my friend and just goes _SHOT IN THE HEAD_. And my friend goes, oh we should probably call an ambulance then because you know…”

“It’s a normal thing in Detroit right?” Jordan finishes, laughing.

“Yes! Exactly, it’s so normal and there’s blood spurting from this guy’s head and my friend…”

Keegan continues his story and Jordan watches him speak, so invested in telling a good anecdote, on making him laugh and he starts to wonder about his stance on love at first sight. He just clicks with this guy, on a sexual level yeah, but on a comedic level too, and would it be crazy to announce that they should start a show together?

 

\- - -

 

**Chicago – 2002**

Jordan had this crazy idea to join an American improv company based in Amsterdam, everyone said he was crazy but who knew it would be so successful? His workload is ridiculously heavy, nothing like university ever prepared him for, but he's thankful he even got the part, working in Europe has been incredible. Now he’s back in the States doing the last show for the season in Chicago and he’s got a night to spare before it all ends and he has to start putting his life back together again. On his bed in the hotel room and he’s thinking about how he should spend the day and knowing himself he's probably going to opt for lying in bed watching some terrible reality TV show, so he's 100% surprised when his room phone set rings. It's his old friend Craig who must be stalking him, how else would he know he's back in town, because it's all rather coincidental and all a bit fishy. Jordan shrugs it off though, accepting his fate. Craig hooks Jordan up with some tickets to see a friend’s show perform that night, in the same theatre Jordan’s going to perform in the next night. Jordan shrugs. He’s not going to question it, it’s a great opportunity to see a good show with minimal effort on his part and so he agrees to it.

The theatre’s just downstairs and he pulls himself toward it. He presents his phone and is scanned in, thank god for e-tickets. Jordan throws himself down into his assigned seat and starts to feel his eyes droop. Fuck, since when did theatre seats become so comfortable?

- 

A shrill shriek wakes Jordan up and he tries to keep his wake up freak out to a minimum as soon as he realizes he’s fallen asleep in a theatre room. There’s some guy prancing around on the stage with ridiculous short shorts on a skin tight sport shirt and the leg movements are uncanny. In Jordan’s just-woken state, his vision blurry and glitchy he tries to clear his mind, clear his throat and straighten up because jesus that guy looks familiar.

That voice cracking shriek sounds familiar.

That ridiculous body movement is so fucking familiar.

And then it hits him. So many years have passed since they had that weird but beautiful night together and here they are again, coincidently both comedians, both actors in theatre productions and Christ, it really is a small world.

 -

Being a star of a production get you certain rewards, like being able to give away seating to your friends. It helped that this particular theatre was the ‘sister’ company of his one in Holland, made it easier to find information about performers and such. He wasn’t able to kick anyone out of the well paid for front row seats but he was able to get Keegan a seat and that’s something right? Apparently he’s staying in the hotel too, but Jordan doesn’t have the courage – or the energy! – to see the guy, he’s just gonna do it old school. He slips the hard copy tickets to his show under Keegan’s door and hopes that Keegan comes.

 -

Jordan realized he had made a mistake. He had invited Keegan, this amazing guy who he hadn’t seen in years, who left him inspired and filled with comedic gold, who kept him up all morning until the sun rose just talking and laughing and getting to know each other. They had exchanged emails, they had written to each other for a few years and then as both their work schedules got busier they emailed less and less. And here he was, having coincidently met Keegan, invited him to see his last show and Jordan realized it would never have worked because throughout the whole show he’s in drag.

Jordan’s sure Keegan wouldn’t recognise him unless he drops a little easter egg. And so up on stage as Oota, a Danish supermodel, boa tickling his ears, Jordan hints at a key moment in their past. And hopefully wouldn’t sound too weird as opposed to what his lines are meant to be?

“…yes because, if you have English as your second language, just remember, _shot in the head!_ ”

 -

Jordan stands backstage with his colleagues, celebrating their successful last show. He bought Keegan a backstage pass, he’s expecting Keegan’s visit any second now. Minutes pass and Jordan starts to kick himself in the butt, cursing himself for not making it anymore obvious, but then he feels a hand clap his shoulder and he turns around, grinning.

“No way, no freaking way!” Keegan shrieks, pulling Jordan away from his celebrating colleagues.

They embrace and pull back and Jordan smiles warmly, “dude it’s been too long.”

“You know, that punch line, _shot in the head_? God, it’s so funny, I have this great anecdote with the _same_ punch line.”

Jordan sighs, he pulls off his wig and flings off his boa, “I know, you told me that story.”

Keegan slaps Jordan’s shoulder, “Dude i know, you totally got me with that line. I didn’t recognise you all dolled up but as soon as you said that line! I knew right away it had to be you! Jesus we’ve come a long way in just one year huh?”

“Yeah man, i should have kept in better contact. I forgot whose turn it was to reply to the email,” Jordan admits, unfolding his glasses and placing them on his head.

“Yeah man, don’t worry about it, you've been doing shows in Europe, that's a whole different time zone-” Keegan pauses mid-sentence and starts bursting out into laughter, “oh my god I can’t believe you still remember that story! God it was so long ago… I swear, gosh it's good to see you.”

Jordan eyes Keegan, the buzz of a successful show, as an audience you can feel it and as a performer it’s a thousand times better, knowing that you’ve entertained people, done your job right.

“What have you been up to? I mean, this show obviously, but what’s next?” Keegan asks, slinging his arm around Jordan’s shoulder.

“This show’s done now, don’t know what’s next, looking for it, you know the deal. And you? I saw your show last night actually, your character is brilliant.”

“Fuck you saw that? That’s my character from MadTV, oh my god, it makes so much more sense how this meeting happened now. Shit. I really thought it was Craig who sent me the ticket. Hey listen, I’ve been on MadTV a while now and I know for a fact they’re looking to hire for next season. You should apply, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“But there’s already a black guy on the show, me auditioning could risk your employment.”

Keegan laughs, “it’s worth a shot. Maybe we’ll get to share the spotlight, might even be able to have our own show together one day?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a pwp but it ended up being something else? I may later add a pwp chapter, we'll see!


End file.
